


The Difference Between Angry Chanting and Actual Singing Is Less Than You'd Expect

by ImAGiraffacorn



Series: Mechtober 2020 [9]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Gen, Jonny D'Ville Swears a Lot, Mechtober, Mechtober 2020, Murder, Swearing, The Bifrost Incident - Freeform, The Mechanisms-Typical Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27268087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImAGiraffacorn/pseuds/ImAGiraffacorn
Summary: Jonny has quite a few questions for Ivy about these new lyrics.
Relationships: Ivy Alexandria & Jonny d'Ville
Series: Mechtober 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988512
Comments: 11
Kudos: 56





	The Difference Between Angry Chanting and Actual Singing Is Less Than You'd Expect

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this one on October 1st, and realized this morning that I had not yet posted it, but here it is!!!

“I’m sorry, Ivy, but what the fuck?”

“You are going to need to be far more specific, Jonny.” Ivy didn’t even bother looking up from her book. She was the picture of calm, despite the rather large pistol being waved in her face.

“I read through the first draft, and there is no way anyone but you could have written that. So, again, what the fuck?”

“Which part? I wasn’t actually all that involved this time. Marius and Brian had a blast with it, though. Go talk to them. Stop interrupting me.”

Jonny threw his head back, groaned loudly, and snatched the book from under Ivy’s nose. 

* * *

“What the fuck, Ivy?”

“I surely don’t know what you’re talking about. You really need to be more specific, Jonny.”

“Fuck you.”

“Take me to dinner first.”

Jonny dove for Ivy’s book, pulling his knife out as he went.

* * *

“For fuck’s sake Ivy!”

“You know, I gave you a 40.3% chance of learning after the first time. Evidently spending sixty years in prison with Marius and Raphaella makes an optimist out of me. That being said, I’m currently running a 72.11% chance you will make the same mistake a third time in a row. Please prove me wrong.”

“Just fucking-”

“No thank you.”

“Ugh!” 

Jonny grabbed an octokitten off the ceiling and pulled out his newly jury-rigged gun-knife, and stalked forward.

* * *

“You know, Jonny, if you actually tell me what you think I did to mess with you, this would be a much more productive conversation,” Ivy said, curled up on the couch with her book nestled safely in her lap.

There was only muffled groaning in response.

“Hmm. I speak 1659 languages fluently, but I couldn’t really catch you there. Please speak up?”

The groaning resumed, this time with some distinctly implied curses upon the Alexandria family name. Ivy turned to the last page of her book, and with a satisfied hum, closed the tome and set it on the table next to her. Sitting up, she turned towards Jonny.

“Alright. I finished reading. What was your question?”

He glared and let out a muffled shout.

“Ah. I suppose I would need to remove the gag.” And with millennia of experience at avoiding angry teeth, she did just that.

“What the actual, unmitigated fuck?” Ivy suppressed a snort. It was difficult to be intimidating when you were hanging by your ankles from the rafters. It was made even more difficult when the person who had hung you from the rafters had killed you three times within a fifteen minute window. Jonny, like almost anyone else who would find themselves in this situation, was not succeeding.

“Which part?”

“You just killed me!”

“Yes. Three times, if I’m not mistaken. You were interrupting the best part.”

“You little- no. You know what? Not important right now. The lyrics, that’s what I need to murder you over.”

“Hmm. Good luck.”

“Yeah, whatever, fuck you. What the hell do you expect me to do?”

“Narrate? That’s what you normally do.”

“No! I mean yes! Just- that song with the chanting!”

“Red Signal?”

“No! Maybe? I don’t remember.”

“Definitely Red Signal. That one, I did help with.”

“Yeah.  _ I know _ . Which is why I want to ask, how do you expect me to pronounce that?”

“The chanting? Well, it’s less singing and more angrily screaming, which should be easy for you, but it goes something like “Y'AI 'NG'NGAH, YOG-SOTHOTH H'EE-L'GEB F'AI THRODOG UAAAH OGTHROD AI'F GEB'L-EE'H YOG-SOTHOTH 'NGAH'NG AI'Y ZHRO”.” Ivy finished with a light cough. “We couldn’t use the actual chant, of course. Too much chance of accidentally waking an eldritch power. But this was a rather direct translation to an old Earth-based language that retained the general necromantic message and complete terror associated with being on the receiving end of such a series of words, while avoiding the less fun interdimensional rift-tearing and summoning of elder gods.”

Jonny stared at her, at a loss for words. Ivy hummed happily. It was a good day when someone could make Jonny shut up.

“It really isn’t that hard. You’ll get it in no time,” Ivy declared, before picking up her book and walking off. As the door shut behind her with a hiss, Jonny began to yell.

“Wait! Ivy! Ivy Alexandria! Get back here! Argh!” With a shout, he began to squirm in the rope, but the knots were tight.

With a resigned hmph, he let himself hang freely. After a few minutes, he began to mutter.

“How did it go… Y'ai something something Yog-Sothoth, something something Ogthrod…”

**Author's Note:**

> Do I actually understand anything about who writes the lyrics? No. Will that stop me from projecting my own hyperfixation of long-dead languages onto Ivy? Also no.


End file.
